The funny thing is, I never liked painkillers. In college and the NFL, they were handing that shit out like Skittles. But I didn’t like the way they made me feel. So I handled it my way. When I was at LSU and I dislocated my shoulder against Georgia in the SEC Championship Game, I still had to go to my classes. I actually had shredded ligaments in my throwing hand, too. So I’m sitting in them hard-ass school chairs, and I can’t even concentrate. I was in so much pain that one morning I just said fuck it and took some drank with me to class. Had my little Styrofoam cup and everything. Looked just like a soda from the cafeteria. I don’t know how the hell the teacher even found out, but somebody in class snitched on me.
Do you even know the kind of pain you’re in week-to-week playing football? I played a whole season in the NFL with broken bones in my ankle. We all got ways to cope. Some taking pills, some sippin’ syrup, some drinking heavy, some smoking weed. Shit, some even snorting cocaine. One way or another, you’re gonna numb the pain.
I’m not gonna lie to you. I was staying up late, drinking, getting tattoos and shit. I didn’t have any time to grieve. I remember getting to training camp and warming up out on the field before practice and just crying and crying. Tears just falling out of my face, like — gotdamn man. In front of everybody. Anybody come to check on me? Anybody ask me if I was O.K.?
None of those coaches wanted me in the first place. Only Al Davis wanted me. That’s on record. Those coaches didn’t give a damn about me — not as a player, and damn sure not as a person. That whole 2009 season was a mess. Finally, it got to a breaking point. We’re sitting in the QB room one day going over film after a loss, and my quarterback coach starts up. He’s motherfucking me, calling me a son of a bitch and whatnot.
Everything I did, and how I did it … it got me to the NFL.
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